


mirror sex

by liddie



Series: kinktober 2019 [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blood, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, M/M, Mirror Sex, because Lance is drugged, kind of?, there's no prep in the fic but Lance's body is ready thanks to the drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liddie/pseuds/liddie
Summary: day 11: mirror sex | formal wear





	mirror sex

**Author's Note:**

> Lotor watches in amusement as Lance tries to get out of the mirror maze, his body working against him with the drugs coursing through his system. 
> 
> this scenario/idea belongs 1000% to Ko and I was allowed to write it 👀💦 Thank you, Ko, for sharing your brilliant ideas with me and letting me try to write them (even if they aren't that good)!! 🙏  
[** here is Ko's super beautiful art! **](https://twitter.com/nsf_ko/status/1183789631625666562?s=20)
> 
> please be aware: I added the dub-con tag because Lance is drugged for this sex!! 
> 
> I'm behind on answering comments but thank you so much for them!! every time I read one I get so excited and happy and motivated! 💙💙💙

Heavy breathing. Gasping breaths. Bare feet on the cold floor.

Lance’s shoulder bumps against the mirror to his left and he jerks as if he's been burned. His back presses against the surface of the mirror on his other side and he shivers at the chill that soaks through the chiffon dress, belly and thighs damp. Shaking his head sharply Lance lurches forward and trips down a hallway to the right.

A forced heat flushes Lance's cheeks and body with a layer of sweat, thrumming through his veins and coursing unwanted in his blood. The thin dress is damp with sweat and the fluids his body is producing against his will, Lance aching for release from the torture.

He crashes face-first into a solid wall of mirrored glass and a burst of warm blood explodes in his mouth. With a muffled cry Lance lifts a hand and touches his split lip and bloody nose with shaking fingers, eyes flooding with tears at the pain.

A voice echoes in the maze of mirrors. _ “Won't you be more careful, Darling?” _

A choking fear claws up from the pit of his stomach but Lance’s body throbs in want. Shame floods his cheeks and his breathing quickens as he looks around, panic thrumming like electricity in his blood.

Pushing away from the wall Lance looks around in search of the exit, his own terrified face reflected back at him a thousand times. Bare feet scuff on the concrete floor as he runs, blood dripping from his nose and lip. Lifting a shaky hand Lance slides it over his mouth and smears the blood across his chin, quickly looking over his shoulder.

A man is watching him from the reflection and Lance lets out a breathy sob.

The break in concentration costs him. Lance's shoulder slams into the mirrored glass and his hand snaps out to steady himself, leaving a streak of blood in his wake. His fingers slip on the smooth surface and he stumbles, knees smarting hard on the concrete. The rough surface scrapes his palms but the pain is nothing compared to the fear that throbs through his entire being.

Scrambling to his feet Lance runs down the hall until he reaches the end, pushing away from the mirror and down another opening. Panic is beginning to override his rational thought process and his head feels fuzzy, heat building in his lower stomach.

He _ needs _ it, the expert touch of someone to soothe the ache. Between his legs and inside of him where the burning heat grows and grows.

Glancing over his shoulder Lance whimpers at his own reflection staring at him from every angle. He turns back around and takes three steps before crashing into something, the scent of crisp cotton and sweet cigarette smoke filling his lungs.

Lance looks up into the face of his tormentor and his only hope of relief.

The man is wearing an elegant suit cut to fit his body perfectly, his long hair pulled back and tied up. The smile Lotor offers is both charming and sharp, Lance’s knees going weak as he grabs at the fabric of Lotor’s suit to keep upright.

A cold hand settles against the small of Lance's back and he shivers, the touch pulling him flush against Lotor’s body, both trapping him and giving support. Lotor’s amusement is evident in his tone. “Have you finished running?”

The rub of Lotor’s body against the thin chiffon covering Lance's throbbing erection draws forth a moan, Lance's entire body running hotter under the touch. He grits his teeth in anger at the situation and the beautiful, terrible man before him, but Lotor’s delicate fingers simply dance across his back teasingly. Lotor smiles as he shifts a leg forward, knee bumping between Lance’s legs.

Lance is unable to help his body's reaction and he rocks against the older man’s thigh, the firm pressure against his dick a brief relief. Lance clamps his wet thighs around Lotor’s leg and Lotor chuckles softly, petting Lance's skin over the chiffon.

“P-please,” Lance sobs, grip turning his knuckles white. He rolls his hips forward in search of friction and feels fingers dipping under the hem of his dress, trailing hot over sensitive skin. “Fuck!”

Lotor traces the waistband of the lace underwear Lance is wearing idly. “Is that an invitation?” His voice is low and soft like a purr, the sound rolling over Lance like a wave. Spreading his hands Lotor cups Lance's ass and pulls him forward, the boy’s dick grinding hard against his thigh.

“I…ahh!” A moan echoes off the mirrored walls as fire lights Lance's blood. He whimpers when slim fingers push beneath the waistband of the panties and inch them down. The descent stops suddenly. Lance tilts his head a little, his chest rising and falling rapidly against Lotor’s.

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

Lance shakes his head, shame and humiliation curling in his belly. But when Lotor tsks and pulls his hands out from under the dress, Lance makes a whimper of complainant and wraps his fingers around Lotor’s wrist to stop him. “Don’t,” he pleads. “Just.. help me. Touch me.”  
  
“Not until you beg.”

“I hate you,” Lance cries, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I hate you,” he says again, trying to tug Lotor’s hand down to where the heat is the worst. The heat is almost overwhelming, his skin crawling with primal urges. “Please,” he whimpers, the word mumbled and soft.

Lotor’s hand squeezes Lance’s ass, kneading the soft flesh roughly. “I can’t hear you.” 

Something in Lance snaps, the tension becoming too tight and too much. “Please touch me,” he begs breathlessly, rutting his hips forward. “I need it, I need _ you._” He buries his head in Lotor’s silk shirt. “Fuck me.”

Slowly, so slowly that Lance wants to scream in frustration, Lotor begins guiding the panties down his legs. The fabric is soaked at the front, the white lace soft as it grazes his inner thighs, leaving trails of heat in its wake. The fabric brushes along Lance’s skin in a teasing caress, Lotor taking his sweet time with the torture.

When the fabric gets far enough down his thighs gravity pulls it to the floor, Lance’s dick brushing the white dress. A cool hand wraps around his sex and he nearly sobs in relief, hands fisting in Lotor’s jacket as he humps mindlessly, urgently. His breath comes in heavy pants, his mind starting to cloud more with lust and shame.

Lotor pulls away and Lance cries out when hands grip his shoulders and push him at arms length. With firm hands Lotor turns him around and crowds Lance against the wall, Lifting his hands up Lance braces them against the mirrored surface as he’s pushed forward, chest against the glass and breath fogging it up.

As Lotor moves into position behind Lance the younger man closes his eyes, the chiffon pushed up and bunched at his middle. He doesn’t want to look, to see himself so eager to be fucked, but hands grab his hips and yank him back. Lance’s eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as Lotor fucks into his needy body.

It’s a slow burn, his body giving way in a hot stretch. With mirrors on every surface Lance can see himself from every angle, no matter where he looks, but the shame that flushes his cheeks is nothing compared to the pleasure that sings through his body as he finally gets what it craves. Lotor fucks him slow and deep, taking his time to draw things out and work Lance into a panting, crying mess.

Unable to hold his own burning gaze Lance tilts his head to look up, but it’s a mistake. Lotor is watching him intently from the mirrored ceiling as his hips snap forward, each thrust rocking Lance onto his toes and filling him exactly how his body needs it. The backward drag of Lotor’s hips is torture and more tears slide down Lance’s cheeks each time he’s filled, the heat spreading like a wildfire.

He can’t look away from Lotor’s gaze. Lotor’s thrusts become harder, deeper, the fabric of his pants chafing Lance’s bare skin each time they meet.

Dropping his hand from the mirror Lance reaches to jerk himself but Lotor grabs his wrist, cutting off the relief. “No no no,” Lance moans, rocking back onto Lotor’s dick and impaling himself, trying to stay full.

Lotor pins Lance’s hands to the mirror, snapping his hips in harsh jerks. “You’ll come from this and this alone,” he commands, catching Lance's eyes in the mirror before them. Rocking forward Lotor buries as deep as he can go, dick stuffed so far inside Lance that he can almost taste it, fingers slipping on glass.

Every inch of the tight wet heat of Lance's body clenches around the intrusion as if it was made simply as a sheath for it. Lotor presses his chest to Lance's back and grinds against him.

Lance can't help as the pleasure spills over, his untouched dick twitching between slick thighs. With a filthy moan Lance spills hot against the mirror, body tightening around Lotor and making him grunt.

Rutting into Lance a few more times Lotor’s fingers dig into sweaty skin as a burst of heat drips down Lance's thighs. The burn of need inside of Lance barely dims, his dick still hard and his ass milking the release that fills his tight channel.

Lotor pulls out carelessly and spins Lance around, pushing his back against the mirror and hiking one bare leg up before sinking into Lance's pliant body again.

Their reflections dance across the mirrored glass, every moan and pant and plea echoed and reflected back as Lance loses himself to the heat and pleasure of Lotor's body. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://kuroshiroganee.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/Kuroshiroganee)


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